Fishnets

I wish my jeans were smaller

that I would speak less about things I don’t know about.

Even with my size

I feel I carry such heavyweight;

In my words

or my expressions.

I walk with my head down

and I have a nice curve down my spine.

I’m always carrying a backpack

and my shoes are too tight.

I crash into strangers

because I think I take up too much space.

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Silver

I don’t feel pretty when I wear my glasses;

I wear them anyway.

My hair’s getting long now

The weight of my head

Makes it pin straight

It goes right to hell.

My skull feels swollen

I can feel calcium trying to mix with oxygen.

I’ve learned to not say hello to people who aren’t worth a sliver of my time, or

More appropriately put;

A single strand

Of my silver stardust gorgeous hair.

Enough

I missed the night.IMG_3698

I smoked passion flower,

left a water bottle open in my bag,

slept with lipstick and glitter

for 12 hours and it’s still not enough.

You were in my dream–

at least a part of you was.

My childhood fish friend decided to move in with me.

It’s always dark now,

in every dream,

Blue, Black, Grey silvers of light

form the non-existing moon bounce off of puddles and trees.

I want to hide.

I want to be seen.

I don’t know which one I want more.

I am surrounded by vomit,

hay,

and sleepiness,

and disappointment.

When did everything I write become so dark?

Fresh

I was thinking about the Midwest.

White, orange, and black cars.

The color of the craft,

our New Year

Spotted on the first day of Summer.

Sometimes fresh starts aren’t always so fresh.

Sometimes they are hot and burning off scorching concrete.

Sometimes they are born on Midnight in the suburbs of Connecticut.